Compromise
by Catlover friendly-but-xplosive
Summary: A series of shorts surrounding Mahariel and Alastair on their journey to save the world, some chapters from Alastair's perspective others from Mahariel's... no romance planned, but you never know...
1. Clan

_****A/N: This started as a 'parallel lives' story between Warden and Hawke... but it kind of grew and flourished on its own, so I let it go. To this point, I've kept them in some kind of order following the story, but as I write more I'll just have to tell you where they fit in the storyline._

_No romance planned between Mahariel and Alastair, but it could happen._

* * *

><p><strong>Clan<strong>

_Mahariel_

Marina Mahariel loves her clan more than anything else. She would do anything for the clan. From the time she is small, she would be alone, except for the clan. The clan raised her after her parents died. The clan is her family, and she considers it her responsibility to protect the clan.

No one will tell her how her parents died, but it's pretty obvious to her. That they don't speak of it says volumes. Shem killed them. Keeper Merethari doesn't want her to become bitter, but by her silence she becomes bitterer than if she had spoken.

The first time she kills a shem, she is hunting. She spent a great deal of time making this bow and she is very proud of it. She sees the shem from a distance. They are no better than animals to her, and she sees no harm in hunting them like animals. She aims carefully, draws, and releases.

The shem falls before he knows he is dead. She takes the head as a trophy, as he would for any animal. She runs back to camp excitedly, tells the Keeper that she made a kill, and presents the shem's head.

The Keeper is horrified, and Marina frowns. She has done something wrong. She tries to figure out what, but comes up with only a blank. The shem are worse than animals. There is no reason it should be worse to kill them than an animal.

She knows that the clan needs to keep peace with the shem, that if they don't there will be trouble. But she cannot help herself. She blames the shem for her parents deaths and nothing anyone says can sway her. They spoke too late. The shem she encounter all end up dead.

Keeper Merethari despairs for the child, but blames herself for her bitterness. If she had only told her sooner she might not be so bitter. She takes responsibility for Marina's outbursts and moves the clan early time and again so her _da'len_ is not punished, and it is the cause of many arguments between Marina and her First, Merrill, who thinks the Keeper is favouring Marina. Merethari watches their rivalry develop, as they each compete for her attention, and tries to treat both fairly, but it doesn't help.

Marina eventually stops killing every shem she encounters, seeing the trouble it brings on the clan. She still simmers with anger, but takes it out on the animals she hunts now the trees around her now, rather than the shemlen. She knows the Keeper doesn't approve, but the Keeper has also admitted it is preferable to killing every shemlen she sees. She prays to the Gods to relieve her of her rage, but they have abandoned her people. She has to do this herself. And she knows no other way to do it than to destroy things.

That is, until she befriends Tamlen. Tamlen soothes her, calms her, and listens to her. He assures her that he understands her feelings but she mustn't act out where it might anger the shem and endanger the clan. He lets her rage at him, and she finds herself spending long hours in the forest hunting with him.

The shem she kills that fateful day are her first in a long time. She is angry they had the gall to lie to her face about her forest. And even after she discovers that they weren't lying, she doesn't regret killing them. They are, after all, no more than animals. Them and the flat-ears who submit to their authority.

She blames the humans for Tamlen's disappearance. Despite what Duncan says (you can't trust the word of a shem, after all), she cannot believe he is dead. She searches the cave and Merrill sticks close by her side, looking increasingly worried despite herself, and insists they return to camp. Marina accuses her of not caring about Tamlen and presses on. She gets dizzy, has to lean on the girl for support, much to her disgust, until Fenarel, who hates Merrill as much as she does, insists they have to leave and get her back to the Keeper, but she refuses, despite the fact that this unlikely alliance must mean something is wrong.

Tamlen must be here somewhere. She will never stop looking.


	2. Meetings

**Meetings**

_Alastair_

He's already annoyed when he meets the elf. At the mage, maybe at the Grand Cleric, he isn't too sure. He just knows that he is annoyed.

"You wouldn't happen to be a mage, would you?" he asks her, not sure what response he's expecting.

"The Keeper wouldn't send one of her own, shem," the elf replies, scorn in her voice, and his heart sinks. Another person annoyed at him. Though, by her address, perhaps she is more annoyed at his entire race. Which, admittedly, he isn't the best ambassador of.

He takes a closer look at her. She's Dalish, he thinks in surprise. A rare sight. Then…

"Wait, a second, I know you," he says, with dawning comprehension. "You're Duncan's new recruit, aren't you?"

She grunts, and he knows he's right.

"Beard-shem told everyone about me, did he?" she grumbles, and Alastair doesn't know whether to leap to Duncan's defence or laugh at the term. In every respect, she is right. Duncan is indeed a shem, and does have a beard.

She doesn't sound like she hates Duncan. Her tone is grudging, but whether out of respect or something else Alastair can't tell.

"I'm Alastair," he hastily adds, realising he's forgotten to introduce himself. "And you are?"

There is a very long moment of silence before she replies shortly, "Mahariel." So long that he feels she won't reply for a moment.

He shivers at the iciness radiating off her. Maybe she doesn't hate Duncan, but she does hate him.


	3. Quartermaster

**Quartermaster**

_Alastair_

He assumes it will be a straight deal- you know, like any deal with the Quartermaster. Sell some stuff, buy some stuff (if you can afford it) and leave.

But he gets his first taste of how difficult she makes routine things during this visit.

"You, elf," the Quartermaster barks when she approaches, strung bow close to hand. He's only known her a few minutes, but her bow is always close to hand; as if she is always ready to shoot. "Where's that armour? And what are you wearing?"

"My armour, shem," she says coldly, and Alastair winces at the ice in her voice, taking an involuntary step back. "You have a problem with that?" She brings up her bow, now nocked, and aims at his heart. The Quartermaster blanches, staring at the deadly arrow.

"No… not at all… sorry for any offence caused… I'm just a simple man, can you forgive me?" Alastair found himself praying to the Maker that she would just let this go.

"Most shem are simple," she agrees instead, not lowering her bow. Alastair swears under his breath. She's starting to attract attention.

"Mahariel," he says, desperately. She ignores him.

"You all seem to think that you can control us as if we're all flat-ears. But I am no flat-ear, shem."

"Of- of course not," the Quartermaster stammers, though Alastair he isn't entirely sure he knows what a 'flat-ear' is. He's not either, and makes a mental note to ask her later. "My mistake, ma'am. I humbly apologise."

The bow does not waver.

"Mahariel!" Alastair tries again. "Stop it! You're attracting attention!" She looks around them, and finally lowers her bow. He isn't sure why, but he does know that he doesn't care. It is lowered.

She glares at the Quartermaster, who quails under the small woman's gaze, and then she turns on her heels and stormed off.


	4. Korcari Wilds

**Korcari Wilds**

_Alastair_

The trip into the Wilds is fun. The Dalish despise shemlen, and Mahariel's feelings of ill will towards them are worse than most of her clansmen- though these shemlen can't know that, since they have never met another of her kinsman.

Alastair she hates, it is plain from the start. Jory (she refuses to use shemlen titles) she feels is weak and she's said she would 'put him down' (as she terms it) without thought, despite their tenuous bond of common need, if not for Duncan's order to cooperate. Daveth's first reaction to her was that he hadn't expected her to be an elf, and Alastair had groaned when she had reacted exactly as he had expected. But she'd warmed to him, which he hadn't expected, and was less likely to shoot him than the rest of them.

The wounded soldier they encounter, last of his patrol, is the first time Jory properly sees her hatred of humans, and the man is now (rightly) terrified of her.

"We have to help him," Alastair says, kneeling before him. She glares at him.

"We don't have time for this," she snaps.

"We don't have time for this?" he repeats, in incredulity. Blessed Andraste, the man was wounded! Human or not, that had to mean _something_. "Have you got an urgent appointment?"

"He's a shem," she shrugs, as if this fact negates all others, and stabs him in the heart. He lets out a gurgling cry and Jory takes a step back, swallowing.

"So are we!" the knight protests.

"I haven't completely ruled out shooting you either," she says, and Daveth chuckles.

"You… you heard what he said," Jory begins, voice trembling, gesturing to the now dead soldier. "A whole patrol, killed by the darkspawn."

"Care to join them?" Mahariel asks, calmly, and the knight's eyes widen.

"You wouldn't!"

"Wouldn't I?" She steps towards him, raising her bow. Alastair hastily intervenes.

"I'll know if they're coming," he tells Jory, keeping a wary eye on Mahariel. "Grey Wardens can sense darkspawn. That's why I'm here."

"Hear that, ser knight?" Daveth chuckles good naturedly. "We might die but we'll be warned about it first!"

"Very reassuring," Jory says, casting equally worried looks at Alastair and Mahariel. The bow she still hasn't lowered is also very reassuring, and he is glad when she uses it to kill darkspawn rather than him.


	5. Scared

**Scared**

_Mahariel_

She will never admit it. Not as long as she lives. She is determined not to show weakness before the shem.

But she is scared. She is without clan, in a world she has always hated and feared. The world of the shemlen is unknown to her, and the unknown scares her. In the clan, she knows her place. She is a hunter, responsible for bringing food and ensuring no shem find their camp. It is not up to her to make decisions. The Keeper is the one who decides what is best for the clan, and for her individual charges. It is not for her to question the Keeper- she simply does what the Keeper says. She always has. She has no idea how to operate without one.

Without a Keeper, she is lost.

So she adopts Duncan as her Keeper. The bearded shem is sensible, she can see that from her time on the road with him, and she respects him. By extension, she must take the other Warden as her brother, yet she refuses to do so. She does not respect him.

She did not respect Merrill either, yet she was still _lethallan_, a small part of her says.

Merrill was elvhen. Alastair is not. She does not accept him as her brother. Daveth she calls brother, despite being shem, just as Duncan is Keeper despite being shem. Daveth dies with honour. Jory she would not call brother even if her entire clan did. Shem-Keeper is forced to kill him when he is unwilling to undertake his duty. She is disgusted and will not sing for him. Yet she sings for Daveth and determines to get him properly buried. She is unaware of shemlen burial rituals, but Daveth was _lethallin_, if only for a day.

It is the same song that Hahren Paivel sang for Tamlen. She feels it appropriate to sing it for a man who reminds her so of Tamlen.

As the last notes die away, she becomes aware that Alastair has stopped on the ramp and is listening to her. She rises from Daveth's side and walks over to him. Perhaps he can prove himself worthy of being _lethallin_.

"What are shemlen burial rituals?" she asks in accented Common.

"We must attend to that another day," Alastair says. "After the battle."

She presses her lips in a hard line.

"He deserves better than to lie in the sun all day," she insists. "I will not allow it."

"I'm sorry, Mahariel. It has to wait."

She turns away from the shemlen and marches past him. He is not worthy.


	6. Tamlen

**Tamlen**

_Alastair_

The dog is just like any other mabari. Big, brutish, and far too intelligent for his liking. Alastair, despite being Ferelden, isn't a big fan of the breed. But Mahariel seems to like the animal, which is just as covered in blood as the elf (who is the only archer he has ever known to be more dangerous in close quarters than from a distance).

"This is the dog I saved at the camp," she says. It barks happily and wags its tail. Morrigan makes a face.

"Are we going to take this mangy beast with us?" she asks in disgust. He kneels before the dog, determined to try to make a good show of himself.

"He's not mangy," he coos, and reaches out to pat it. The dog barks sharply at him, warning him away, and he barely drags his hand out of the way before it is bitten.

Mahariel laughs.

"An intelligent creature," she says, crouching lightly on the balls of her feet beside him, "He's staying!"

Morrigan makes another face and a disgusted comment. Mahariel ignores her, contemplating the animal.

"You have intelligent eyes, _lethallin_," she says. Alastair isn't sure what that means, but knows it is an expression of endearment by the way she says it. When he gets addressed in Dalish, it is most certainly _not_ endearing.

"Tamlen would like you." She pauses, then strokes the blood flecked head. The dog leans into her hand. "Tamlen."

The way she says it now, it is clear she is not referring to a friend, but she has named the dog.


	7. FlatEars

**Flat-ears**

_Mahariel_

On the road to Lothering, Alastair finds the time to ask her what a 'flat-ear' is.

"Not elvhen," she says shortly. He frowns, perplexed, and she, knowing that he will simply keep pestering her if she doesn't answer him so he understands, elaborates.

"The ones who capitulated. Who gave up their identity to fit in with yours, shem," she says, with exaggerated patience, as if she is talking to a very small child. His expression clears.

"City elves!" he says, sounding triumphant at finally understanding. Stupid shem.

"Flat-ears," she says, spitting on the ground as she does, lip curling in derision.


	8. Morrigan

**Morrigan**

_Mahariel_

The Keeper-gifted shem, the one Alastair calls a witch, Morrigan, immediately captures her interest. After all, they are rather similar, with similar upbringings. Growing up in isolated forests, away from humans, equally perplexed by human customs. She hopes she can find clan in Morrigan, for she refuses to acknowledge Alastair as _lethallin_.

Morrigan blocks her attempts to get to know her better, and she withdraws. She cannot blame her. After all, she herself is unwilling to engage with anyone. And she prefers Morrigan's silence to Alastair's relentless talk. The shem never shuts up, yet manages to say absolutely nothing. She has no idea how he does it, but it irritates her no end.

She would shoot him, if it wasn't for the fact that her shem-Keeper told her to cooperate with Alastair. Duncan may be a shem- with a beard, no less - but he was her shem-Keeper, and just as the Keeper's edicts hold beyond death, so must his. She will toe the line for him.


	9. Nightmares

**Nightmare**

_Alastair_

Mahariel has pitched her tent halfway between Morrigan's campfire and theirs. This doesn't stop him from hearing her cry out as she tosses and turns at night. He's often up too- it's the noise she's making, not his own nightmares, of course- and once he sees her dive out of her tent, something suspiciously like tears streaming down her cheeks.

No, it's just the rain. It must be.

He feels wrong watching this, this moment that in all honestly she should not share with anyone. Especially him. It's much too private for outside eyes. He doesn't even want to see it. All he ever sees of her is disdainful stares and a cold facade. He doesn't want to see that she is anything more than that, doesn't want to force her to reveal anything else.

For he knows it is a facade. He wears one, after all. Where his takes the form of incessant talk, hers is grim silence.

He wonders when she'll crack, and when he will.

_Mahariel_

She flings herself out of her tent, tears coursing down her cheeks, unable to stop them. She is glad it's raining. It lets her pretend that the wetness on her cheeks is completely natural. She can blame Mythal for it.

She is trembling as she tries to banish the nightmare from her memory. _A dragon high above a deep trench filled with darkspawn, roaring, sending her eardrums rattling, and Tamlen was with them, listening intently, cheering at whatever the dragon was saying, holding a torch high above his head…_

"_Lethallin!_" it is a raw, grief filled scream that wakes the whole camp. Alastair is the first on the scene, and she cannot manage the customary disdain she maintains around him, cannot bring herself to care that he is _shemlen_. He offers comfort and understanding, and she sorely needs both.

Their eyes meet and something passes between them. She is not sure what it is.

"They happen a lot, the nightmares," he says, and she is grateful that he doesn't ask if she is alright. "But you never get used to them."

She stares at him in silence, but without venom and without the barrier of _shemlen_ between them. She doesn't speak, but she doesn't need to. She can see in his eyes that he knows she cannot manage it yet.

"Ma serannas," she whispers.


	10. King's Bastard

**King's Bastard**

_Alastair_

Redcliffe Village is just visible over the hill when he stops her.

"Mahariel, I… need to tell you something." She looks at him, impatient but not angry. Since the night he told her about the nightmares, she let her guard down somewhat. He appreciates it. He doesn't feel like he'll get an arrow in the back at any second now.

"I told you Arl Eamon raised me, but, uh…" Maker but this is awkward. She waits for him to get it out, and he does, in one big rush.

"I'mkingMaric'sson," he manages. She takes a moment to decipher his words.

"And?" Her utter disinterest comes as a breath of fresh air. Everyone always sneered or put on airs. It's nice to know that at least she will treat him the same as she always has. One shem is just like another to her, he supposes.


	11. Need

**Need**

_Mahariel_

Once again, she wakes screaming.

She doesn't realise how much she has come to rely on Alastair (too late, she is disgusted by the thought) until he fails to come to her side as he normally does when she wakes from a nightmare (most nights). She finds herself looking for him, worried despite herself, and sees him asleep by the fire, tossing and turning, in the thrall of a nightmare himself.

She crosses the distance between the two campfires, shivering slightly- really, she should start either camping closer to one or making her own fire, though three in one camp seems excessive- and sits by his side, watching his eyelids flickering and seeing the horror in his eyes underneath.

Is this how she looks when she dreams?

She shakes him gently and he wakes with a start, breath coming too quickly, fear in his eyes. He looks wildly around and sees her. _Something_ flickers into life in his eyes, replacing the fear, something soft and gentle. _Trust_. He _trusts_ her. She tries to remind herself that he is shemlen, but the warmth spreading through her counteracts her attempts to distance herself, and she surrenders to it. No one has trusted her since she left the clan, and she has missed the feeling. And he is also a Warden. That alone makes him more clan than any of the others here. Now, the thought does not disgust her.

"You... were having a nightmare," she says, awkwardly. He stares at her.

"Um... thanks," he says. She realises her hand is still on his shoulder and snatches it away as if he is on fire, stepping back and clearing her throat uncomfortably.

"It woke me up."

It is a farce, and both know it. It's a farce the other Warden has used before too, so she feels perfectly justified in employing it herself.

There is a long silence, and abruptly she walks away, back to her lonely tent. She starts shivering away from the warmth of the fire and finds herself thinking that she really should start pitching her tent closer to the fire. Her pride tells her that she has endured worse, but common sense tells her to swallow her pride and move closer in order to be warm.

She curls up under her blanket, willing it to be thicker, and stares out the tent door at the flickering campfire (not the man sitting on the other side of it, staring at her tent) for a moment before turning away.


	12. Lethallin

**Lethallin**

_Alastair_

They find themselves in Denerim for supplies long before they are ready to confront Loghain, and he decides to introduce himself to his sister while he's there. It doesn't go well.

Alastair storms out of Goldana's house furious to find Mahariel waiting for him. He glares at her, expecting her to let loose the scathing repertoire of insults she seems to have reserved just for him. But he's surprised. She looks tenderly at him, in understanding.

"You are alone," she says, and he, mouth open to defend himself, stares.

"I… guess I am," he says.

"You are without clan," she continues. He looks at the door of the house and sighs.

"I suppose so."

She meets his eyes and he sees- compassion?- in those huge, beautiful elf eyes. She puts a hand on his arm.

"Beard-sh- Duncan-" she corrects herself, "Was my shem-Keeper. Duncan was your Keeper too?" He doesn't quite understand the connotations of 'Keeper' but knows that it is a title of high honour and authority.

"Yes, I suppose he was," he says. And she smiles. It is the first time he has seen her smile at him, and she has a beautiful smile.

"Then we are clan, _lethallin_," she tells him firmly.

Brother. She has called him brother.


	13. Tamlen Part 2

**Tamlen- Part 2**

_Mahariel_

She is cooing at the dog and scratching his belly when Alastair comes up to her.

"I've been meaning to ask you something," the man says, and she is surprised that she does not see him as a shem, but a man. Come think, it's been a long time since she judged even strangers based on being shem.

Her clan would be horrified, but she finds that she isn't.

"The dog's name, Tamlen," Alastair says, sounding curious, "You named him after someone. Who?" Memories flash through her and she smiles.

"A dear friend," she says. "From childhood, he was there for me. When I was angry he calmed me. When I was sad he comforted me. We used to hunt for hours in the forest together." She feels a blissful smile curve across her cheeks and doesn't try to hide it.

"We'd keep the shem off the clan." She looks ashamed now. "I... was the cause of several early moves." She stares at the ground, blushing.

"How?" Alastair asks, confused.

"I was angry. I killed the shem. The shemlen were mad. They tried to punish us. The Keeper took responsibility for my actions, but it was all my fault." She bites her lip. "I failed the clan."

Alastair appears uncomfortable, and she realises that he can't know how bad disappointing the clan is, or how to comfort her through it.

"Anyway," she says, taking a deep breath, and he looks relieved. "Tamlen. We'd found some she- humans-" she corrects herself. "And they said something about a cave. We'd explored all over. There was no cave. We killed them for lying."

"They weren't, I'm guessing."

"No. Tamlen and I investigated, and there was this mirror. He touched it and... when I woke up, he was gone and the Keeper told me that I had been asleep for two days. That's when Duncan recruited me. Duncan said Tamlen was dead. I didn't believe him at the time. But now..."

She doesn't say any more. She knows Alastair understands. He is a Warden too, and has seen what the Taint does to the untreated.

Alastair touches her shoulder as she stares at the dog Tamlen.

"Thank you," he says softly.


	14. New Clan

**New Clan**

_Mahariel_

Expelled from her clan, Marina Mahariel is alone.

The Grey Wardens are betrayed not very long after she joins them, and she finds herself even more alone. Shem-Keeper is dead, and she is lost.

Now she is alone in the whole of Ferelden, and even more hunted, without even a clan at her back. She looks for clan amongst the companions she finds herself travelling with.

The other Warden she refuses to call _lethallin_. He is a fool and does not deserve it. The witch she would call _lethallan_ if only she would let her. The dog she calls Tamlen for he is strong, as strong as her fallen clan mate. The not-shem agrees with her on that. He is a strong warrior, one she is proud to call _lethallin_, though he doesn't understand the title. The Sister of the Chantry is the last person she would call _lethallan_. She isn't even sure why she allowed her to accompany them- perhaps because the other Warden insisted they needed the help, and shem-Keeper told her to cooperate with him.

As time passes, she begins to see more than just the faces of her companions, and she unknowingly starts to show more of herself. But she holds to Dalish ideals- and is alone. The Sister tells her one day that she is only alone because she refuses to belong.

She ponders this, and realises it is true. If she continues to push them away, she cannot blame them for pushing her away.

She searches beyond the face of each companion. And sees something else, a new level she hadn't seen in them before. She also searches her own soul, and finds a hatred which shocks her and prejudice which defines her.

She is shamed, and the next day joins the campfire, determined to see beyond 'shem' and 'elvhen'.

She sees that Alastair's constant chatter and inappropriate humour is simply a way to cover his fear. Leliana does the same as Alastair. Morrigan is doing what she does and retreating from the world. And Sten…

Well, who knows why Sten does what he does.

All in all, she thinks, looking around the campfire, it's not such a bad clan.


	15. Song

**Song**

_Alastair_

In the moments when he lets his mind drift, it drifts to the one and only time he's ever heard her sing. The song was exquisite as she knelt tenderly over Daveth's body, her voice soaring, much too rich for the small framed woman.

He'd stopped to listen on the ramp, entranced, moved nearly to tears.

She's outside her tent, stroking Tamlen, and he finds himself approaching. She looks up at him without reproach, inviting him to speak. Things changed between since them since the business with Goldana.

"You remember your Joining?" he asks, then curses his stupidity. Of course she does. It's impossible to forget.

"Of course." Her voice holds no condemnation and gives him the strength to continue.

"You sang something. Over Daveth's body. What was it?" She cocks her head, lost in memory for a second.

"A funeral lament," she says. "Willing his spirit to return to the Creators. He isn't elvhen- but maybe your Maker will listen too."

"I've no doubt that the Maker will listen to such a beautiful song," he says. She looks up at him, ceasing petting Tamlen for a moment. The dog whines and butts her hand and she smiles, resuming the attention.

"You think it is beautiful?" He goes red. He'd said that?

"Well, yeah, I mean, it's..." She silences him with a gentle finger on his lips and he is surprised to find he is sitting down before her now, and starts to sing.

"_Haren na melana sahlin,_

_Emma ir abelas_

_Souver'inan isala hamin_

_Vehenan him dor'felas_

_In uthera na revas._

_Vir sulahn'nehn_

_Vir dirthera_

_Vir samahl la numin_

_Vir lath sa'vunin._"

He swallows, hard, as she finishes, and hastily wipes the tears from his eyes. Leliana is watching them with interest, Sten is pretending not to listen, and even Morrigan is holding herself differently, head cocked to one side.

"I definitely think it is beautiful," he says, and she smiles, a pink flush forming on her cheeks.


	16. Dalish

**Dalish**

_Alastair_

Their eyes follow him suspiciously around the camp. He tries not to turn around to stare back. The one time he did they met his gaze squarely in that disturbingly steely way that Mahariel has, and he begins to appreciate where she got it from.

He can't exactly blame them for been suspicious. His people haven't done anything to warrant a warmer greeting, after all. And it was humans who drove the elves into this life. Mahariel has spoken of Arlethan, their lost city, and the culture and history that was lost with it. He understands their standoffish nature. That doesn't mean he's any more comfortable been here.

Surrounded by elves who would not hesitate to put an arrow in his back, he is jumpy and nervous. His mind flicks back to the first time he met Mahariel, and he notices all the humans as if seeing them for the first time, notes her quick movements and nervous twitches. No wonder she always had her bow to hand. His hand rests on his sword hilt out of instinct, but he doubts it would do him much good against a barrage of Dalish arrows.

_Mahariel_

She should be overjoyed to be here. She knows that. She's been pining after her clan for months. And they are certainly willing to embrace her, if not her companions. When she tells one woman she hasn't seen her clan for months, the horror in her eyes is clear. It is nice that someone finally understands.

But the first time someone flings 'shemlen' around, the force of her reaction startles her.

"Don't use that word," she hisses at the offender while placing herself squarely in front of Alastair, who is staring open mouthed at her. "They're not the only ones who have made mistakes. Your standoffish ways certainly don't help either."

Alastair and the elf speak together.

"_Your_ standoffish ways?" they ask. She blushes and turns to Alastair, and he cannot miss the disgust in her eyes. She isn't sure who she is more disgusted at- the elf or herself for divorcing herself from her people. Unity is the only way the Dalish survive. But she cannot let the insult go. She long stopped using the term long ago, seeing as how half her companions are human.

"Let's go," she mutters, and walks away, him following her.

From then on, the Dalish are reserved around her, and she hears the accusation of 'flat ear' levered at her a few times. She doesn't even bother fighting them.


	17. Tower

**Tower**

_Mahariel_

As the boat glides across the lake, she stares at the sky, taking long deep breaths, relishing the fresh air as long as it lasts. The thought of the tower they are approaching sends deep thrills of… something… through her. It is fear, she realises. She is afraid of been encased in the stone. And why shouldn't she be? She's Dalish after all!

As they get closer, she gets a better view of the place and horror fills her.

"Creators, there aren't any windows," she whispers and Alastair stirs beside her, lost in his own memories.

"To keep them from dreaming of freedom," he says voice hollow. She looks at him and remembers he said something about been a Templar.

"You… were a Templar once, yes?" she asks. "I can't imagine that it can be comfortable to return here."

"I was never a Templar," Alastair says hastily. "Never came here. Duncan rescued me from that." Sensing this is a sore point, she changes the subject.

"He saved us both, then."

They are silent until they reach the tower. Both stir uncomfortably as they get out of the boat, and pause before entering the Circle Tower.

"Mythal guide us," she prays as she enters, shivering as the door slams shut and the stone surrounds them. Knowing that this is a prison is one thing- been inside and feeling the corrosive atmosphere for herself is quite another.

"Save your heathen ways for the wilds," a Templar snarls, and Alastair jumps to her defence.

"Just because you believe something different to her doesn't mean she's heathen," he snaps. She smiles at him, twitching uncomfortably.

"Ma serannas, lethallin."


	18. Freedom

**Freedom**

_Alastair_

They leave the Circle Tower with one more party member. Wynne decides that the best place to be is with them. Mahariel gratefully accepts the help, despite Morrigan's disgust, or perhaps because of it. Since she has grown closer to Alastair, she has grown apart from the witch. He is delighted.

Both elf and man breathe deeply of the clean air outside the Tower when they first step outside. Mahariel visibly relaxes, and he feels his tense shoulders unknotting. Seeing the Templars like that… it just makes him more glad he isn't one of them.

"Thank you, Duncan," he murmurs under his breath. Mahariel looks over at him but doesn't speak. She knows what he is thanking Duncan for. The two Wardens have grown to understand each other. She smiles at him. He smiles back, seeing how grateful she is to be out of the stone tower.

"Thank the Creators," fervent relief is in her every line, breathing a deep sigh of relief. "Fresh air."

"Orzamar next," he murmurs. Her smile falls and she lets loose a barrage of Dalish that makes him wince even though he can't understand any of it. Wynne is shocked by the clearly vulgar language.

"She's claustrophobic?" the older woman asks, and he finds himself laughing.

"_That's_ all you got from that?"


	19. Temper

**Temper**

_Alastair_

Mahariel acquires something of a temper during her time in Orzamar. Normally she just gives a cold shoulder to those she doesn't like, but so many miles below the ground she panics, and that panic is manifested through anger. She becomes snappish, and he can see her shivering and staring longingly up at the roof in unguarded moments.

It affects him too, but not quite as badly as it does her. Where he is able to cope with the oppressive stone and become used to it, she is flighty as a bird, and he feels sure she'll just flee to the surface, allies or no, soon. How can he blame her, though? She's Dalish!

But it gets worse when they are told they have to go into the Deep Roads.

"The… Deep Roads…" she croaks, fear transparent in her tone and shaking hands. "Creators let this be a bad dream… please let this be a bad dream…"

The red beareded dwarf, Oghren, laughs heartily.

"Scared of the Stone?" he mocks her. "Don't worry, pointy ears. It won't bite you."

"Oh, Maker," Alastair groans as her bow snaps into her hand. The tavern patrons don't even seem to notice. Apparently they're used to weapons being drawn. Oghren just laughs louder.

"Pointy eared coward," he taunts her. She stiffens and suddenly holds her head high. Alastair hides his face in his hands. She hates been called a coward. But he is surprised. Instead of shooting Oghren, she lets the bow string loose and turns back to Alastair, fixed determination in her face.

"We're going into the Deep Roads," she announces.


	20. Archdemon

**Archdemon**

_Mahariel_

She _hates_ the Deep Roads. She hasn't coped well at all with them, to the point where Alastair shadows her constantly looking extremely worried, but has managed to keep herself moving by reminding herself of how everyone has laughed at her.

"Don't let your pride kill you," he tells her softly, touching her shoulder. She jumps, sure he's a rock wall closing in on her. It's a ridiculous image, but she can't stop her imagination from running way ahead of her common sense.

She doesn't reply, unwilling to admit that her pride won't let her back down until she's done what she came down here to do.

One dwarf in Orzamar even noted she was acting like she was seeing the surface for the first time. It's not so different, she supposes. They are afraid of falling into the sky. She is afraid the stone will swallow her.

Then they see the Archdemon. It is just like her dreams, roaring above a trench filled with thousands of darkspawn, and fear grips her. She fervently hopes that all this is a bad dream, a terrible nightmare, that she will wake up beside Alastair (she has taken to sleeping by the fire beside him) and he will soothe her.

But by the way he grips her hand and his sword, she knows this is no dream.

"Creators…" she whispers, voice shaking, unable to tear her eyes from the dragon. "Is that…"

"That's it." Alastair has gone pale under his tan, and she is sure the blood has drained from her cheeks too. "That's the…"

Neither Warden wants to say the name; as if denying it will make this less real. Even Oghren is cowed now, staring cross eyed at the dragon.

"That's big," he says finally.

Morrigan eyes the dragon off, and neither Warden stops to think what she is thinking, too absorbed in their own nightmares.

"If there was any doubt this is a Blight…" Alastair finally manages as they back quietly out the chamber.

"We have to fight that thing?" Mahariel whispers, voice shrill with terror at the thought. "That's impossible."

"Fight?" Oghren asks hopefully. The Wardens ignore him.

"Creators help us."

"Oh, Maker."


	21. Sky

**Sky**

_Alastair_

The closer they get to the surface, the faster she moves. On the contrary, Oghren slows down. She nearly leaves him behind at times. When they finally emerge into the sun she is running. She falls on her side and curls in the snow, disregarding the cold, and he hears her giving fervent thanks to Mythal, the Creators, the ancestors, the Dread Wolf… even the _Maker_ ends up in the list.

Oghren hesitates to step into the snow. He is staring up at the sky in trepidation.

"Sky," he mutters disgustedly, hands clasped firmly by his sides in order to disguise his shaking as he reluctantly steps forward.

"Sky," she echoes reverently, lying on her back covered in powdery snow, smiling blissfully.


	22. Alienage

**Alienage**

_Alastair_

"Elves live like this?" The horror in her voice is tempered by pity, and he cannot exactly deny the evidence right before their eyes. Shame fills him. His people did this to the proud elves. Whispers of 'shem' reach their ears, directed at him, and a particularly bold elf approaches them.

"This is not a place for shem," he growls, and he recalls their greeting at the Dalish camp. Right up to the point that they realised Mahariel was Dalish, they were prepared to turn them away. He looks over at her, and realises she too is remembering it. The now-familiar flash of horror when she sees prejudice, in herself and others, is back in her eyes.

"There is no difference between shemlen and elvhen," she insists, and he realises that this is the first time she has included city elves in 'elvhen'. "They are no more at fault for their ancestors' actions than we are."

The elf spits.

"Are you that naive?" he asks bitterly. She steps forward, right close to him.

Her voice is low and dangerous. "If you will not respect a human who is blameless of any crimes towards the elvhen, respect a Grey Warden." The elf's already large eyes widen.

"Warden?" he asks.

"We are Grey Wardens. You will treat us with the respect that affords." His jaw works for a moment and she glares at him, steel in her eyes. He turns and flees.

She turns to Alastair.

"I love pulling rank," she says, but her eyes are regretful, the cheer in her voice obviously forced.


	23. Nightmares Part 2

A/N: Set between Nightmare and Need.

**Nightmares- Part 2**

_Alastair_

She dreams of the archdemon again.

He gently shakes her awake and waits for her fear to disperse. He doesn't speak as her eyes search the lines of his face, committing them to memory. She grasps for his hand and he lets her squeeze it tightly, as he often squeezes hers after she wakes him, desperate for comfort.

She must find the comfort he seeks in his face, for she relaxes her grip, though she doesn't relinquish her hold.

Their eyes meet. Her gaze is steady but not steely as she calms down. Her familiar unyielding gaze comforts him. He knows she won't let anything hurt him, and won't let anything hurt her in turn.

An odd emotion wells up within him. Trust. He trusts her. It is a curious sensation, but undeniable. He examines it from all angles, and finds he likes this feeling, likes been able to trust someone. After Duncan, he had no one.

He suddenly realises that she too was robbed of the only friendly face in this world when Duncan died. How could it have escaped his notice that Duncan never received the cold shoulder or the glares that he did? That when she spoke to Duncan there was respect in her voice? That she obeyed his commands when she obeyed no one else, not even King Cailin?

She is just as alone as him.

Maybe, just maybe, they can find solace together.


	24. Motivations

A/N: Takes place in a quiet moment in the camp before 'Dalish'.

**Motivations**

_Mahariel_

"Tell me, why are you doing this?" Mahariel spins around, bow in hand, but refrains from shooting just in time. It is Leliana- of course. She is the only one who pesters her like this. The only _woman_ anyway. "It's obvious you don't care about humanity- so why are you saving us?"

"I'm not saving you, shem," she replies, scorn in her voice. "Darkspawn are more than just a shemlen problem."

"No, they're dwarven too. And you don't care about them either. Your people have no homeland to worry about, so why fight this?" Still the shem persists. Annoyance vies with fury for control and wins. The Keeper would be proud. She clenches her fist away from her bow. She doesn't have a problem with shooting her- but she'd have to clean the mess up later.

"And whose fault is that, shem? Who destroyed Arlethan and sent us on the run?" she snaps. The shem steps back. Wise.

"No offence meant," she says hastily. "I just meant…" Mahariel takes a deep breath to stop herself throttling the infuriating woman.

"No, we have no lands of our own. However, if the darkspawn overwhelm all your land then where are we supposed to go?" Her voice is measured, tension in every word.

"I… suppose you're right." Maybe she'll leave her alone now. Creators she hopes she goes away. She has her answer. Mahariel turns away.

"So…" She's not gone.

"So I'll shoot you if you keep pestering me," she says calmly.

Silence. Blessed silence. Thank the Creators.

"No you won't."

Mahariel heaves a deep sigh.


	25. Travelling

A/N: Takes place between 'Clan' and 'Meetings' and is set on the road to Ostagar.

**Travelling**

_Mahariel_

She is on the road once again. It's a familiar life to her of course, and she quickly falls into a rhythm, though she has to stop and rest a lot more. Beard-shem seems worried about her. She sees him watching her out of the corner of his eyes, and his concern drives her onwards. She will not be outdone by a shem.

It doesn't take long before the taint overwhelms her though, and she has to stop. She is panting shallowly, struggling to put one foot before the other. He offers his support, and she is forced to take it.

She falls asleep quickly when they rest and has terrible nightmares. Nightmares about Tamlen, mostly, and the many grisly fates she can imagine.

If he is dead, she hopes it was quick and painless.

Beard-shem is a good man- for a shemlen. He knows when to offer his support and when to withdraw and let her go on alone. He takes the lead automatically, knowing that she needs to follow. She begins to see beyond the label 'shemlen' and respect this man for who he is inside. He would make a good Dalish, she thinks, and cannot blame him for his race.

It isn't fault he was born shemlen, after all.


	26. Da'len

A/N: Set at some point after 'New Clan'

**Da'len**

_Mahariel_

In many ways, her life has changed little, she reflects. She still lives on the road and runs from the world, which hates her not only for been an elf but because she is a Warden now. The only difference, really, is that she has terrible nightmares and no clan.

Actually, she does have a clan. It just so happened that her clan isn't the one she grew up with. A rustling in the bushes by the road startles her out of her musings and she brings her bow up instinctively.

"What's wrong?" Alastair asks, drawing his blade with a quiet _snick_. She points at the bush, which rustles again. Someone makes a sound inside it. Someone is crying. A _child _is crying.

She puts her bow up instantly and kneels before the bush as Alastair sheathes his sword again. They're close to a town- this one must have wandered off and gotten lost. She holds a slim hand out.

"_Da'len_," she calls softly. "Come out. We won't hurt you."

The crying pauses and a tentative voice sounds.

"Mama?" A boy child, very young.

"I'll help you find your mamae," she assures him. "Come out." After a moment the rustling starts again and a dirty, tear stained face peers up at them. She beckons to him in encouragement and he crawls to her.

He can't be more than seven, she thinks as she looks him over, checking him for injury.

"Why are you here alone?" she asks as she does so. He doesn't appear to be harmed- merely scared.

"Got lost," he sniffles, then looks at her proper. "You're an elf!" He rises and tugs on her ears. She smiles and laughs softly.

"That's right. My name is Marina. What's your name?" He examines her with intelligent blue eyes.

"I'm Tommy," he says. "Thomas, really, but everyone calls me Tommy. Everyone except Mama when she's angry." Alastair chuckles and she has to suppress a smile. It was always the same with her. She was always 'Mari' as a child- unless Ashalle was angry.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Tommy," she says carefully, as she always is speaking Ferelden, accenting every syllable to ensure that she's saying it right. "Where's your mamae?"

"In the town," he replies. She's right, then. "She'll be really mad at me. I was just playing a game."

"A hiding game?" she asks smiling. He nods vigorously. "I bet you're really good at hiding games, aren't you Tommy?"

He grins and nods.

"Come on, Tommy," she says warmly. She hoists him onto her pack and he wraps his legs around her neck, pulling on her ears as he settles comfortably. She grimaces, but figures it's at least better than pulling her hair out.

"Pony!" the boy cries in delight, and she's forced to laugh through the pain as she sets off at a much slower pace due to the extra weight she's now carrying.

Just as they enter the village to find Tommy's mother, a very flustered woman runs into them.

"Thomas!" she cries in sudden panic seeing him on the elf's back, happily oblivious to his 'pony's' pain as he tugs on her ears and urges her to go faster. Gratefully the elven woman sets the boy down by his mother, ignoring his pout and rolling her shoulders.

"We found him hiding in a bush, ma'am," she says respectfully. Mothers, no matter their race, are the fiercest creatures one could ever face. "He said he got lost during a game." Suspicion and gratitude vying on her face, the woman takes her son's hand firmly in her own.

"Thank you," she bites out, clearly still unsure whether or not the elf has stolen her child, narrowing her eyes at her.

"Glad to help." The woman glares at her. "We should go," she adds hastily to her companions.

"You should," the mother agrees.

"Thank you Marina!" Tommy calls as he is dragged off, most likely for a lecture to stay away from dangerous elves who steal children. "You're a good pony!" She'd had enough of those lectures as a child- only in her case the shemlen stole the children.

How different are we really, she thinks with a sigh.

She turns to see her companions staring at her.

"What?" she asks defensively


	27. Marina

Mirror chapter to 'Da'len'

**Marina**

_Alastair_

He watches the child grab and pull on her ears, hard by the looks of it- and by the grimace on his friend's face- but she doesn't say a word. She doesn't even object to been treated like a pony as she once would have, violently.

He is amazed. This isn't the Mahariel he knows, covered in darkspawn blood and grinning like a maniac, laughing hysterically as she casually stabs another darkspawn and puts an arrow into a third at close quarters.

This is Marina.

He turns the name over and over in his head. It's a pretty name- much more feminine than he'd have expected of the fierce Warden trying to save the world and lead her fragile new clan at the same time.

Marina, soft and beautiful.

The thought catches him off guard. Beautiful?

She _is_ - but that isn't the point. It isn't good to start thinking about her like that. That leads to him protecting her in battle and getting his ears sharpened by an irate and far too proud for her own good elf as she screeches at him "I can take care of myself!" followed by a lot of Dalish, which she always slips into when she is angry.

Not soft, and definitely not beautiful, he tells himself firmly.

But he cannot stop himself stealing glances at her as she walks ahead of him, humming under her breath. He isn't admiring her- the swaying of her hips, her lithe steps, the way her black hair catches the sun-

Not admiring her at all.


	28. Respect

A/N: Set after 'Travelling', the meeting between Mahariel and Cailan. I think Marina Mahariel would support Loghain if he hadn't gone about taking charge of the situation all the wrong way.

**Respect**

_Mahariel_

The man is like an overeager halla. An overeager _young_ halla, she thinks as a blonde man in ridiculous gold armour flanked by two bodyguards almost runs to greet them.

"Your Majesty," Duncan says, clearly surprised. "I did not expect…"

"A royal welcome?"

The blonde king beams at Duncan, who bows slightly. "And this is she?" he turns to her. Clearly Duncan sent word ahead of their arrival.

"Your Majesty, this is…" Duncan is cut off yet again by the overeager halla pup.

"No need to be so formal, Duncan," he laughs. "We're going to be shedding blood together after all. Welcome to Ostagar, friend!"

Her scornful words escape her almost before she is aware of what she is saying.

"I am no friend of yours, human lord," she snarls. Duncan shoots her a pointed look and she backs down. "I am Mahariel," she amends. She may not respect Cailan, but she has great respect for Duncan from a long time on the road.

"It's a pleasure to meet you! I trust I can rely on your help?" Contempt nearly overwhelms her but she disguises it.

"I am here to join the Grey Wardens," she says. Duncan gives her another warning look.

"But of course, if assisting your army aids the Wardens, then you have my bow."

"Excellent!" exclaims Cailan, and she nearly spits on the ground at his feet, instead managing to keep a pleasant smile on her face, inwardly seething.


	29. Why

A/N: Mirror chapter to 'Song'

**Why**

_Mahariel_

She isn't sure why she sings the song, or why his compliment makes her go red, why his voice sends thrills down her stomach, or why she gets pleasure out of seeing him go red too.

She tries to tell herself it is because she likes making him squirm, which raises another question- why for the love of the Creators does she like making a human squirm? It's not about his race, not anymore, and it's so easy to do, so there's no triumph in the act.

So why does watching him get flustered make her smile and suppress a blush of her own?


	30. Fear

A/N: Mirror chapter to 'Temper'

**Fear**

_Mahariel_

The stone crushes her. It is everywhere. It surrounds her and pushes in on her. It will bury her if she doesn't stay on the move.

"Mythal keep me," she prays as she dodges another dwarf giving her a dirty look. If Mythal even reaches down here. She is the Mother of All, who put the sun in his place- surely this place must be hell, with no sun to guide her.

Her breath constricts painfully in her throat again and she moves closer to Alastair's side. He looks down at her and touches her arm reassuringly. His touch only makes it harder to breathe, but she welcomes it. It is a vestige of comfort in this place comfort has abandoned.

The dwarven tavern is worse even than human taverns. It's louder. The sound bounces off the walls and only makes the stone close in that bit further on her. It's smellier. It's dirtier. She swallows, hard, and takes a step inside, praying fervently that she learns to float. Her feet are already dirty enough and she isn't sure that she wants to know what's in those puddles.

She makes a mental note to put her boots on as soon as she leaves this place. She likes walking barefoot, as do all her people, but this is purely unhygienic.

Deep Roads.

The words send thrills of terror through her and she knows her terror is apparent in her voice.

"The… Deep Roads? Creators help me," she prays aloud. The red bearded dwarf sitting opposite her laughs and anger flares into life within her. No one laughs at her!

"Scared of the Stone?" he mocks her. "Don't worry, pointy ears. It won't bite you." Her bow is in her hand before she is aware that she has nocked it. He just laughs harder. "Pointy eared coward."

She presses her lips in a thin line and struggles to contain her rising panic. What would Alastair think if she ran now?

Since when does she care what he thinks?

It is a question to ponder another day, when she is away from this Mythal-forsaken place and in the sun again. But it has made her mind up. She turns to the man and, in a voice as steady as she can make it, announces that they are going to the Deep Roads.


End file.
